Studying Abroad in London
by Polanix
Summary: Whilst staying with an old friend of her brother's, Kaylee comes across documents she was NOT supposed to see. In a certain chain of events she ends up at 221B Baker St with no memory of who she is, just a head full of secrect information and a killer searching for her.
1. Breaking Rules

I do not own Sherlock or John or any other character from the series. I do own Kaylee and Stephen.

Kaylee groaned as she leaned back against the counter, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, her head hanging back. The water was taking forever to boil. It had been an irritating day and now all she wanted to do was grab a blanket, curl up on the couch and watch an old romance movie. She lifted and turned her head to look out the window. It was too dark outside to see anything. She thought about how the day had gone so far. Basically . . . it had sucked. She had woken up late, which in turn, made her late for class, failed a test, got into a fight with her boss and was almost fired and _then_ had to work overtime.

Kaylee sighed, rubbing her bare arms and looked back at the kettle; it was still warming up. She threw her arms into the air cursing the old oven and plodded through the entryway into the living room. The room was dimly lit by a lamp in the far corner by the window. The young woman fell back onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling, her brown hair blending in with the dark leather sofa. The white of the ceiling stood out blatantly against the dark red of the walls as it stared down at her. The collision between the two colors had an eerie look about them. Kaylee wondered why such a color had been chosen. The sight was uncomforting. She looked away.

There really wasn't much in the room. A small shelf full of books, a little coffee table over in the corner across from the couch which held a vase empty of flowers and an old lamp, that gave off a warm yellow light. There was also a desk directly across from the couch and above it a circular cream-colored analog clock. Kaylee found that it was 11:48.

Refusing to return her gaze upward, the brunette looked back to the shelf full of books. On the third shelf down was a small decorative box. She smiled. It had been a gift from her brother, Alec, to Stephen, the man she was staying with while she was studying abroad.

Rolling over onto her side, Kaylee pulled the pillow up from the floor and curled her body around it. So far she had enjoyed herself here. She loved listening to people talk, with their English accent. She tried imitating it a few times unsuccessfully. Some nights she would make Stephen recite out loud the book he was reading and she would fall asleep to his voice.

The combination of the dim light, the slight warm temperature, and the soft fluffiness of the couch slowly put the tired girl to sleep. She was on the brink of unconsciousness when she sprung up from the couch, sending the pillow flying.

"Oh my gosh, my report! I never sent it!" The college student went to reach for her bag which she always stored on the left side of the couch. There was nothing to grab but air. She peeked over and found the spot empty. "Oh crap, I left my bag at work," Kaylee cried smacking herself in the face. Slowly her hand slid down, pulling at her skin, making it appear droopy. She was about to let out a groan of despair when she noticed the laptop on the other side of the room sitting wide open on the desk. She had made it a rule to never touch someone else's personal belongings but tonight she would have to break that rule, her passing the class depended on it.

Kaylee crept over to the computer. Stephen had left some documents and emails open which she ignored and logged onto her school account. She pulled up the word document, thanking the heavens that she could pretty much remember everything she reads. She quickly wrote up the report and sent it in.

Kaylee sighed with relief and closed out her window. She was about to get off when something caught her eye. It was the word 'suicide.' She knew Stephen worked for the British government and sometimes worked on cases. Curiosity pulling her in, she started from the beginning of the first document and read through it.

The snooping woman couldn't stop reading, without realizing it, she was slowly leaning closer into the screen, her hands pressing on the keyboard. She went through document after document. The last thing she came across was an email. Kaylee was half way through the email when suddenly it vanished. Being so consumed in the reading, she had managed to press a certain combination of keys deleting it.

The email was gone.

"Oh crap." She whispered standing up abruptly, knocking the chair over onto the floor and backing away from the computer. Everything she had read replayed over in her head. She pressed her hands against her head and squeezed her eyes closed. The shutting of the front door brought the young woman out of her thoughts.

"Kaylee, I'm home. Sorry I'm late. It was a long day at work." She listened to Stephen's footsteps as he walked from the front door, down the hallway and into the kitchen. "Some friends of mine brought Chinese food for dinner." He unloaded his full arms onto the counter. "They had left overs so I brought some home. I know it's a little late" Kaylee watched the tall man slip off his gloves and slick his hair back. "But I figured since it's a Friday . ." Shrugging off his jacket, Stephen noticed the boiling kettle of water on the island stove. "Are you making tea?" The girl didn't respond.

The lack of a reply made the man look over at Kaylee. She stood, hands covering her mouth, face completely pale, eyes wide, the chair lay on its side at her feet. He strode over setting the chair back up. He pulled her gently to the chair and set her down.

"Kaylee, what happened?!" Stephen kneeled to her eye level, gripping both her arms gently, concern clear on his face. "What's wrong?"

The nervous woman tried to avoid making contact with his eyes. Her own zipped from his sharp nose, to his distinguished cheekbones, to the black hair that had fallen back across his forehead. They finally met with his deep set of dark grey eyes.

Before she knew it, she betrayed herself by looking over at the computer. Stephen followed her gaze. She looked back at him in time to see the color drain from his face. Letting her go, he stepped over to the laptop. The documents had been shuffled and the email was missing. When he turned to look at her again, the concern was gone, in its place was fear and anger. In a second his hands were back on her arms.

"What. Have. You. Done?!" Kaylee tried to pull away but his hold on her was solid. He began to shake her. "Where's the email? How much did you read?!"

"I-I-I" She stuttered. Stephen was shaking her too much. Suddenly he stopped, his head facing the floor.

He shook his head. "I really had hoped this wouldn't have happened."

His hands slipped from her arms. Standing up, he walked over to the shelf containing the box. Kaylee noticed his fingers brush over the gun on his belt. Reaching up, Stephen pulled the decorative box off the shelf. With his back to her, he opened it and pulled out what looked like a glasses case. Putting the box back on the shelf, the frightened girl could hear a small click of something opening. She was too petrified to move. Finally the lofty man turned holding a capped syringe. He popped off the cap and flicked the side of it. Slowly he stepped towards her. Fear moved Kaylee out of the chair and began backing away from him. Upon reaching the chair, Stephen took it with his empty hand and tossed it toward the kitchen. Two steps back, the young woman bumped into the coffee table which held the small vase. Stephen didn't stop. She grabbed the vase and threw it as hard as she could at him. He blocked the vase as it shattered against him, making tiny slicing his forearm.

Kaylee used the minor distraction to try and escape the corner she was trapped in. She was almost past him when she was tugged back and a sharp pain shot into her arm. Kaylee looked back to see the syringe sticking out. She jerked herself free of his grasp and fled into the kitchen pulling the syringe out of her arm and tossing it to the side.

She could sense Stephen reaching for her. Quickly she grabbed the kettle off the stove, swinging it by the handle, she smashed it against his face. The kettle shattered, glass flying everywhere, the hot boiling water burning the right side of her care taker's face. Some of the hot water and glass flew back at Kaylee scratching and burning small areas on her face, arms and neck. The man screamed staggering back clutching his face and tripping over the chair he had tossed earlier.

Kaylee took that moment to escape. Stepping around Stephen's wriggling form; she dashed down the hallway and out the front door. Not bothering to shut it behind her, she ran out into the street forgetting any protection against the weather and rubble on the road. The bitter wind nipped at her as she ran as fast as she could. She ignored it; focusing on trying to see straight as the drug started to kick in blurring her vision.

I know Sherlock and John weren't in this one but for sure they are in the next chapter.


	2. Eggs, Milk, and Experiments

**I don't own of the Sherlock characters.**

Milk, Eggs, and Experiments

"This is the last time I'm going to the store at night." A man grumbled as he walked out the store. "Bloody cashier, thinks it's all _my _fault he has to work so late."

The man stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and searched the streets for a taxi. His mind quickly drifted from one unpleasant thought to the next. Nothing had been easy today. Work had been extremely busy and when he finally was able to go home, he returned to find his flat-mate working on some experiment that required the entire kitchen. On top of all this he found that they were once again out of milk.

"Would it kill him to get the milk for once?" The man asked to the empty street. Far off he could see headlights from a car. The man hoped to the high heavens that it would be a taxi.

Kaylee turned down another street. Vaguely she could see a man a few feet away hailing a taxi. She was losing consciousness fast. She stumbled over to the man. He was about to get in the taxi, groceries hanging from both hands. She fell against him gripping the zipper lining of his jacket.

"Please . . . help me." She gasped before passing out. The man dropped his groceries in time to catch her. He stood for a moment staring at the limp body that hung in his arms. He looked up to see if anyone else was around. Sighing he carefully slide the young woman into the car. After she looked comfortably situated in the car, he got back out to grab his groceries. He looked down to find the milk carton broken and spilt everywhere. None of the eggs survived. The man huffed and stepped back into the taxi, slamming the door shut behind him.

He told to the driver to head to the hospital. Not a second later the man's phone rang.

"Hello?"

"John, you must come home. Sherlock has blown up the kitchen. I don't know what he did, but it smells so awful!" Mrs. Hudson cried.

"Mrs. Hud-" John tried to get a word in. She continued in a high pitched voice.

"Mrs-Mrs. Hudson, calm down, I'm on my way." John said reassuringly.

"Oh thank goodness." Mrs. Hudson sighed into the phone with relief.

"Just stay downstairs." John advised.

"Bless you John." Mrs. Hudson sniffed.

John hung up, dropping his phone onto his lap. He looked over at the young woman. He rubbed his eyes.

"Driver, 221B Baker St. Please."

John regretted not dropping the girl off at the hospital as he stood outside his front door, the young woman hanging from his arms bride style, his key in his pocket. He was thankful that the woman was short and smaller than him. Placing his foot on the first step, he held the top of the woman's body with his left hand and let the bottom half rest on his propped leg. He slid his hand between himself and her body making an awkward stretch to reach his left pant pocket.

"Bloody key." John muttered as he strained for it. His left arm was slowly getting tired from holding the girl in the uncomfortable position. Finally his fingers grabbed hold of the key and pulled it out. He stuck the key in, unlocked the door and bumped it open. He slid his hand back under her legs and carried the young woman in. Immediately John could smell burnt hair and something else he couldn't place. He could feel the irritated mood he was in earlier returning, along with a headache.

"Oh my." Mrs. Hudson, who had come to greet John at the door, placed her hand over her mouth in shock.

"Everything is alright Mrs. Hudson, just go drink some of your tea." John pulled his key out of the door and headed up the stairs. He could hear Sherlock walking around ranting on the floor above. Mrs. Hudson nodded closing the door quickly and heading back to her room.

John emerged into the living room to find Sherlock, walking around the kitchen, goggles on his face, his hair a mess, talking a mile a minute. Sherlock stopped mid stride noticing John in the doorway but completely ignoring the girl in his arms.

"John! Where have you been? Mrs. Hudson took my skull again and I've had no one to talk to." Sherlock was looking back down and what to John thought looked like a mess.

"Sher-"

"I finished it John, I finished the experiment!"

"Sherlock."

"Do you know what I found out?"

"Sherlock!"

"What!?" Finally Sherlock looked down at the woman in John's arms.

"Isn't she a little young for you John? I mean really, does the word desperate come to mind?"

"She's not-!" John started laying the woman on the couch. "She literally ran into me on my way home. I was going to take her to the hospital but then Mrs. Hudson called saying you were out of control."

"She took my skull." Sherlock huffed.

"Anyways," John ignored Sherlock. "I was going to call Lestrade, tell him what's going on, and have him come pick her up." John reached for his phone.

"No, no, not yet." Sherlock looked down at the woman, steepling his fingers against his lips, his eyes far away.

"What?!" Why not?"

"Because, John, I'm bored and this has been the most interesting thing that has happened in the last few days besides my experiment." Sherlock snipped. "We need her awake, wake her up!"

"We can't wake her up, I have no idea what happened to her. I could make things worse if I wake her up now. You'll just have to wait." John reasoned.

"I don't have time to wait John."

"Sherlock, it's almost one. Get to bed, we'll both get some sleep, heaven knows I need it, and she'll be awake in the morning." John pleaded with Sherlock. Sherlock was silent for a moment.

"Fine." Sherlock complied. John breathed out a breath of relief. He was about to head to his room when Sherlock spoke.

"By the way, where's the milk?"

**Hope you guys like it so far. I have loads of homework and what-not so I won't be consistant with uploading. Sorry. :(**


	3. Skulls and Bullet Holes

**So I forgot to mention when this story takes place. It's in between Season 1 and Season 2, just after the Great Game and John has already broken up with Sarah. Sorry for taking so long for updating, I have been very busy with homework. Anyway hope you like the chapter. :)**

Skulls and Bullet Holes

John sat in his chair with a cup of tea in one hand and the newspaper folded in half in the other. He was trying to relax since today was his day off. The morning had started out chaotic. Mrs. Hudson had come up demanding that the girl be taken to the hospital. Sherlock had ignored her too busy looking for his skull. Upon finding it, he put the skull in its rightful place and then announced his departure and left. Mrs. Hudson threatened John to take care of the girl and then also left having an appointment she couldn't miss.

Every now and then John would look over and check on the girl who slept restlessly on the couch. He still couldn't believe that the girl was actually sleeping on the sofa in their apartment. When he had awoken this morning he thought it had all been an annoying dream and that when he went downstairs there would be a jug of delicious milk waiting for him. Seeing the girl on the couch made him slightly depressed. Her existence meant that they were still out of milk.

It was then he noticed, for the second time, the scratches and burns that covered the young woman. John had cursed himself for not taking care of it the night before while he searched for the box of medical supplies. Finally finding it under a container full of strange objects, he returned to the girl and began to clean up the dried blood and cover the blisters with ointment. While gently cleaning the wounds, the doctor had noticed a rather large bump surrounded by a nasty looking bruise on her arm. John lightly touched the bruise receiving a flinch from the girl. A small frown formed on the man's plagued his thoughts as he went through scenarios of what could have happened to the young girl.

John finished up his work, double checked to make sure he hadn't missed any other wound and then went to go find a blanket, again chastening himself for not being more considerate of the girl. The soldier could see young woman relax the moment the blanket was tucked around her.

After that most of the morning had past peacefully, especially once Sherlock left. Occasionally John would receive a text from Sherlock asking if she was awake yet.

Carefully set his tea on his lap, John turned the page of his newspaper. Folding the paper back in place, he lifted the cup to his lips when a scream erupted in the apartment. Startled by the scream, the doctor spilt the tea on the front of his shirt. He quietly cursed and then looked over to the girl. She still wasn't awake. Sweat covered her body, her fists gripped the blanket tightly, her breathing was quick and short.

John leapt out of the chair, letting both the cup and newspaper fall to the floor. Whether it was good for the girl or not he had to wake her up. The solider fell to his knees and gently shook her. The young woman thrashed and kicked.

"Hey, you need to wake up." John called gently, his grip firm on her shoulders. Suddenly the girl's eyes shot open fear blazingly clear. She let out a yelp. He immediately let go of the girl.

"Stay away from me!" She cried stuffing herself into the corner of the couch as much as she could.

"It's okay." John held up his hands showing he meant her no harm. "It's okay." He repeated. "I'm a doctor, I'm not going to hurt you."

The girl stared at him, calming slightly. The man slowly put down his hands. Her eyes flittered about the room, growing wider when they came across the bullet holes in the wall, the picture of a skull and then the real thing on the mantle. John mentally kicked Sherlock for putting the skull back on the mantle this morning. She looked back at him.

"Where am I?" Panic was blatant in the girl's voice.

"You're in London, England, in apartment 221B on Baker Street." John informed her, judging by her accent he figured she was some tourist visiting from America.

"London?" The girl whispered bewildered. _Whatever was injected into her arm might have affected her memory. _John thought studying the her over again.

"Yes, do you know how you got here?" He began questioning.

"No." The girl finally answered after a moment.

"Do you know where you're from?"

"No."

"Do you know your name?"

"Yes." Her eyes brightened a bit.

"What is it?"

"It's K-" The girl thought for a moment, her head ached. "I-I don't remember." A tear slide down her face, "I can't remember anything, I don't know who I am, I don't know where I'm from, I don't know what I'm doing here!" She sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

The soldier leaned back on his heels unsure of what to do. He reached out to try and comfort the girl.

"John Watson what have you done?" The man jerked his hand back as Mrs. Hudson came into the room. "I knew she should have been taken to the hospital." She huffed.

"I didn't-" John started, watching as the elderly woman sit down on the couch next to the young woman, slightly relieved.

"Come here dear, everything is alright." She gently pulled the girl close to her. The weeping child now rested against her while Mrs. Hudson rubbed her back.

"What's your name dear?" The old woman asked.

"She doesn't remember." John replied walking back over to his chair.

"Oh poor thing." Mrs. Hudson pulled back from the girl studying her face. "For now we'll call you . . . Jane. How's that sound?" The girl smiled a bit glad to no longer be nameless. Mrs. Hudson whipped the tears off the girls face.

"I bet you're hungry." The old woman smiled. Jane nodded.

"Let me go get you something to eat. I'll be right back. And don't worry about him," Mrs. Hudson gestured to John with her head, "he is a very nice boy." With that she got up and went down stairs.

The soldier sat quietly in his chair thinking.

"E-excuse me?" He looked over at the girl.

"Um is there a bathroom I could borrow?" Jane asked quietly.

"Oh yes, of course it's right down there. " John pointed. Jane untangled herself from the blanket and stood up only to fall back down onto the couch. The doctor hastened over to her and helped her up. Carefully they walked together to the bathroom.

After the door shut John dragged himself back to his chair and slumped into it letting out a sigh. His phone buzzed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. He knew it was from Sherlock what he didn't know was if he wanted to tell Sherlock she was awake yet. John stared at the phone then finally he flipped it open.


End file.
